


I'm Dylan, of the Grey Wardens.

by theleploner



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen, idk sorry guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-15 03:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4591752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleploner/pseuds/theleploner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She hoped that the Warden would be like Alistair. She hoped he wouldn't try to win her heart. She never suspected he would actually succeed, if he did try. </p><p>**completed**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mirror

He sat next to her at her fire and grinned, as if he knew something she didn't. The grin made Morrigan uncomfortable. She was the one who knew things, the one who was keeping secrets. It should not be the other way around.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said. Her eyes fixed upon the bundle of cloth in his hands, and she relaxed. “I bought it in the Dwarf city,” he said, grinning. “It reminded me of you. Of a story you told me,” he handed her the bundle. “Careful. It's delicate.”

The fact that he could handle anything delicate and not destroy it came as a shock to her, but she swallowed her sarcastic remarks, and slowly began unwrapping the present.

Her heart stopped when she saw what was inside.

“Dylan...” her voice caught in her throat.

Wrapped in layers of cloth was a golden mirror. Identical to the one she had stolen as a child. Identical to the one Flemeth had destroyed to teach her a lesson.

“Nobody... Has given me a gift like this without expecting something in return,” she said. “How... How should I repay you for this?” She knew that the mirror was expensive and that Dylan never had much money. She knew he should be repaid.

“Morrigan, it is simply a present. For a beautiful woman,” he said, his mouth turned up in his trademark smirk.

“Thank you, then,” she replied. Her voice wavered as if she was on the edge of tears.

It was funny, she thought, how a simple gift made her that much more fond of him.

 


	2. The Warden Falls

They had been in many battles before. Generally, Morrigan focused on herself, and her attacks. She payed little attention to the others,unless it was to make sure she wouldn't hit them.

But once she began seeing Dylan, it changed. She found herself glancing his way whenever she has a second to spare. Defending him if he needed it. She knew, deep down, that there was no need. She knew Dylan was able to defend himself.

And yet.

She told herself she needed him alive, that laying with Alistair was the alternative, and that the alternative repulsed her.

Some small part of her yelled the truth, but she couldn't accept it. It would only make things harder.

But the day she saw him fall in battle, she lost it.

* * *

 

They were in the deep roads, battling darkspawn. Alistair, Oghern, and Dylan were surrounded. Morrigan stood back, attacking where she could, doing her best not to injure the others.

She glanced at Dylan, watched for a moment as he attacked fluidly, his daggers extensions of his arms. Just as she went to turn away, he fell.

His daggers hit the ground with a clang, and he collapsed onto his back.

She saw it in stunning detail.

His green eyes stared blankly at the roof of the cave, his hands were limp, inches away from his daggers. His hair was plastered to his head, with blood and sweat. His pale face was splattered with blood. There were drops of blood on his armor, along with ichor. Some was fresh, some was caked on.

He would never again get a chance to clean it off.

Something hit her then, in her stomach. A cold feeling, as if she had been stabbed with ice.

Without being able to explain why, she flung everything she had at the darkspawn.

Alistair and Oghern could only avoid her fire.

 

* * *

 

When all of the darkspawn lay dead, and the three of them stood catching their breath, she turned to where Dylan lay.

Except he wasn't on the ground.

He was standing up, smirking.

“Nice one,” he said. “I didn't know you could fight like that.”

Morrigan swallowed the lump in her throat, the irrational anger she felt towards him.

“I would not have to fight like that if Alistair were replaced by someone more competent,” she said.

Alistair started to protest, but she wasn't listening. She was already lost in the sound of Dylan's laughter.

 

* * *

 

“I faked my death,” she heard Dylan say later. “I wasn't sure if it would work, but I was desperate. I fell, as if I had been killed, and the darkspawn ran off. As if they had defeated me.”

Frustration bubbled in her chest, but she pushed it down.

This was getting too complicated.

 


	3. Fairly Local

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by fairly local by twenty one pilots.

He wasn't great at writing songs, but it passed the time, and, Morrigan was sure, put things out of his mind. Plus, he had a nice voice. One she didn't think she could ever forget.

She just wished Leliana didn't have to be a part of it.

It wasn't that she was jealous, or that she had anything against the rouge. It was just... She was going to be there after the blight, Morrigan was sure of that. She was also sure that she would be gone after the blight, with or without Dylan's child.

It wasn't jealousy. It was just that she wanted to spend time with Dylan, before the final battle. Before she left him forever.

Feelings made everything more complicated.

* * *

 

Leliana and Dylan sat by the fire in his room, while Morrigan was sprawled out on the sofa.

“Is it about what happened at the alienage?” Leliana asked. Morrigan heard Dylan mumble a reply. “Hey, listen, you may not have done the right thing, but you did what you had to. The help he gave you will be useful in the blight,” Leliana said.

Morrigan thought that was a horrible way to comfort someone, but she didn't say anything.

Dylan cleared his throat and began to tap out a rhythm on the floor.

“ _I'm evil to the core, What I shouldn't do I will, They say I'm emotional, What I wanna save I kill, Is that who I truly am? I truly don't have a chance, Tomorrow I'll keep a beat, And repeat yesterday's dance,_ ” his voice was strong, but his words made her feel cold. Did he truly regret accepting the ritual?

There was a pause. “I don't know what should come next,” he said, “but I've got another part ready.”

“Let's hear it then,” Leliana said.

He began tapping out a rhythm again.

“ _I'm fairly local, I've been around, I knew the paths we're walking down, I'm fairly local, bad person now_ ,” his voice was beautiful.

The room fell silent.

“I think... This is a song you should write on your own. Your song,” Leliana climbed to her feet. “I'll be in my room later, if you wish to have me listen while you work on it,” and with that she left.

Dylan turned to face Morrigan. “What do you think of it?” he asked.

(I wish you did not think of yourself like that. I think you are too hard on yourself. That is not how your song should go. You are more than that one choice, my love.)

“I do not have a taste for music,” she said.

(Feelings make things harder.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ritual mentioned is the one Caladrius offers in the Unrest in the Alienage quest.


	4. Return of the Warden

"I have more news. From the Hero of Ferelden," Morrigan said, causing everyone at the war table to look up.

"He has... Found a way to rectify his calling. He wishes to join us here at Skyhold. However, since our inquisitor so kindly banned Warden's from the area, he thought it wise to request our approval to join us."

Leliana laughed. "Dylan requested permission, from another man, to come see you? You mean he's not just going to swagger in here and stab anybody who tries to stop him from seeing you?"

"Yes, well, he reckons if he ends up harming the wrong person our dearest Inquisitor will have him executed. He does not wish Kieran to see, or hear, of such events, Morrigan replied.

"From the stories I've heard I'd've thought he'd just kill the Inquisitor and take over the Inquisition," Cullen said.

Morrigan laughed. "Commander, if he did that I would kill him."

A few people laughed and the Inquisitor nodded. "I would be honoured if he would join us here."

 

* * *

 

Morrigan hovered by the gates, waiting for Dylan's arrival. Kieran was off in his studies, and honestly? Nobody else felt relevant enough for her to care where they were. Not to Morrigan. Not now.

"Morrigan? May I speak with you?" the voice startled her, although she didn't let it show.

"Seeker. How may I assist you?"

"It's... Nothing really. Well, it's personal. I just wondered... If there was a reason you and the Hero never married? If not out of love, then perhaps for Kieran's sake."

Morrigan was caught off guard by the question. Neither Dylan or herself had believed in love at the time they met. Marriage had always been for titles and other such formalities. Neither of them had need for that. Kieran hardly ever seemed like their son in the eyes of strangers; there was no need to fear judgement. Dylan and herself rarely stated their feelings for each other, and neither of them had ever said they felt strongly enough to wish for marriage.  
"I was an apostate, for one. For another he hardly..." she trailed off as a tall slim figure began to approach the gates. "Pardon me seeker, my Warden has returned, I need to go see him.

Morrigan met the Hero not far from the gates, and Cassandra watched as Morrigan buried her face in the crook of the Hero's neck.

Cassandra watched them for a moment, then turned away, praying she would never be left behind while her Inquisitor rushed off on dangerous tasks.

 

* * *

 

"I missed you," Dylan murmured into her hair. "I missed you a lot."

Morrigan buried her face into the crook of Dylan's neck, relaxing as his arms wound around her waist.

They stood like that for a moment, in total silence. Finally, Morrigan pulled back and smiled at him. "You're a good father, Dylan. Seeking a way to defeat your calling so you can remain with your son. 'Tis truly noble."

Dylan laughed. "I suppose you could say that. But if you think I only did this for him, then you're out of your mind," he kissed her forehead and smirked. "If I had loved you half as much as I do, I would probably never have even met my son."

Morrigan sighed, dramatically. "You would have met him regardless. You are incapable of understanding the word 'no', love."

Dylan let go of her and headed into Skyhold. Morrigan fell into step beside him, and absently he hooked his arm around her waist.

"What did the Inquisitor say when he found out your husband was the Hero of Ferelden?" Dylan asked.

Morrigan made a noise of disgust, something she had picked up from Cassandra. "You aren't my husband, and so I told him 'Tis not as domestic as he pictured."

Dylan laughed and pulled his love closer to his side as they walked. "Now he probably pictures you pushing me out the door when I have risky business to attend to." Morrigan laughed softly.

"He probably imagines me keeping you around just for the sake of Kieran," she said. "He wouldn't be entirely wrong."

"I beg pardon? He would be very wrong. You keep me around because you love me. And I you," Dylan replied.

Morrigan smiled softly. After everything they had been through, she would always cherish the moments he said he loved her. And she would always be amazed that he knew she loved him, without the use of words.

"Regardless of what he thinks, he'll have a new opinion if he sees me walking around with your arm around my waist," Morrigan tried to sound annoyed, but only succeeded in sending Dylan into a fit of laughter.

"Maker, have I missed you," he said, pulling her into a dark corner to steal a kiss.


	5. The Witch and The Warden

Her eyes were like molten gold. Or, he assumed that's what molten gold would look like. He didn't really know what gold looked like. But they were beautiful.

His eyes were like emeralds. Like the grass, the leaves on the trees, after it rained. They felt comforting, which unnerved her. Men, and the eyes of men, should not be comforting.

Her hands crackled with power. A flick of her wrist could end a life. Yet they were soft, always soft, when they brushed against his skin.

His hands were thin. They looked weak, as if they belonged on a teenaged boy. Yet she had seen those hands in work. Had watched them wield daggers, with such strength, that she knew those hands were a deadly force of their own. Yet she had seen those hands shake, felt them only steady when she took them in her own.

Her tongue was a weapon, sharp, unyielding. It could cut down a man faster than any sword. It could cause more pain than any broken heart. Yet when they kissed it was soft, hesitant, warm.

His tongue was silver. The words that rolled off of it could convince any man to face his deepest fears, without a second thought. His tongue made people go against the throne, support an angry looking elf, all because a crumbling piece of parchment said they should. Yet when they kissed, his tongue was at a loss. Of words, of actions. Or everything.

She walked like a lady. The sway in her hips could turn the heads of men and women alike. Her head was held high, commanding respect. Around him, she allowed herself to lower her head, and he saw the fear she hid inside.

He walked like a god. There was a swagger in his gait. There was a taunting smirk on his face. His eyes flashed, sometimes with anger, sometimes with lust. The sight of him made men angry, made women fearful. Yet when he was falling asleep, or waking up, he was a poster boy of youth, of kindness.

She was his witch. He was her warden. She loved him, and he loved her. In the end, it's as simple as that.


End file.
